


IOU

by Spikedluv



Series: Dec 2017 Gift Fic [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cameo: Jasper Sitwell, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: Clint took the paper and opened it to reveal anIOUwritten in his familiar scrawl.  His belly did a flip at the implication.  He casually re-folded the paper and said, “Aww, sir, paperwork?”





	IOU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misbegotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/gifts).



> This story is one of my December Gift Fic and was written for Misbegotten for the prompt _MCU, Clint/Coulson, paying off an IOU_. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Written: December 19, 2017

Clint could barely keep his eyes open when the Quinjet set down in the hangar. He perked up when he strode down the ramp and saw the two agents waiting for him. “Agent Coulson, Sitwell,” Clint greeted them.

“Barton,” Sitwell said.

“Agent Barton,” Phil said. “It’s good to see you made it back in one piece.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“How was your flight?”

“It somehow managed to be too short and too long.” Clint had been chomping at the bit to get back to New York, but since he couldn’t be immediately transported there he settled in to take a nap. By the time they’d announced they were five minutes out, he’d gotten just enough sleep to wish he was still asleep, or had never tried.

“What are you doing now?” Phil said.

“I need to check my bow and shower,” Clint said. The debriefing wasn’t until later that afternoon.

“Excellent,” Phil said. “I’ll see you in my office after. You can tell me all about it.” He held out a slip of folded paper to Clint.

Clint took the paper and opened it to reveal an _IOU_ written in his familiar scrawl. His belly did a flip at the implication. He casually re-folded the paper and said, “Aww, sir, paperwork?”

The corner of Phil’s mouth twitched and he arched an eyebrow. “It’s better to get it done while everything is fresh in your mind, Barton. Gentlemen,” he said before turning smartly on his heel and leaving Clint with Sitwell, who was laughing his ass off at Clint’s expense.

“Shut up,” Clint said without any heat.

“You’re the one who gave Coulson the IOUs. What were you thinking?”

“It was his birthday, and we were on a mission in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, and my options were limited,” Clint said.

Sitwell walked Clint to the armory and left him with a jaunty, “Enjoy your paperwork.”

Clint flipped Sitwell the bird, which only made him laugh again. Clint forgot about Sitwell (but not about Phil because there was a low hum of energy buzzing beneath his skin at the thought of seeing him later), and checked over his bow. He cleaned everything before stowing it away and made a mental note to requisition a dozen more arrows and a new arm guard.

Clint locked the armory behind himself and headed for the locker room. He’d only been wearing this uniform for nineteen hours, but he couldn’t wait to shower and put on clean clothes. Clint’s hair was still wet when he knocked on Phil’s door, and his t-shirt clung to the still damp skin of his lower back.

Clint pushed the door open when Phil called out a curt, “Come in.” He leaned against the doorframe and studied Phil, who was sitting behind his desk, the computer humming in front of him. Phil’s suit jacket was hung carefully over the back of a chair in front of his desk and the cuffs of his white dress shirt rolled up to expose his forearms, which was practically casual for Phil.

“Making me do paperwork the moment I return from an op is cruel and unusual, Coulson.” Heat coiled in Clint’s belly as Phil gave him a heated once over that was belied by the cool tone when he replied.

“You’ve had time for a shower, Barton, so it’s not the _moment_ you returned. Get in here and close the door. The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be done.”

Clint couldn’t bite back his grin. “If you say so, sir.” Clint stepped into the office and pushed the door closed behind him. The ‘snick’ of the lock engaging was loud in the room that had fallen silent with anticipation.

“Get over here, Clint,” Phil said, pushing back from the desk.

Clint didn’t hesitate; he rounded Phil’s desk and straddled Phil’s lap before he could stand up. Phil made a sound of surprise, but he opened to Clint’s eager kiss. He wrapped his arms around Clint and held on as if he’d never let him go again.

The kiss had gotten passionate in a hurry because Clint had been thinking about it since Phil handed him that damned IOU – in front of Sitwell, no less.

“You’re an asshole, by the way,” Clint said.

Phil’s lips said, “Sorry,” but his tone said something else entirely.

Clint thought about how Phil had been waiting for him with his jacket off and his cuffs rolled up and he kissed Phil again. “I’ve only been gone for thirty-six hours,” Clint said, arching into Phil’s hands as they slipped beneath the t-shirt and caressed his back.

“Seemed like longer,” Phil said.

“Because you weren’t there,” Clint said. He knew Phil, and no matter the bland face he’d put on it, Clint had known that Phil was less than pleased that Clint was being sent on a mission without him. “Davidson is pretty good.”

“I know that,” Phil said. “I approved her promotion.”

“And you still don’t trust her to have my back?” Clint said softly.

“To be fair, I don’t trust anyone else to have your back,” Phil admitted. “Which is probably why Fury insisted on you going on this one.”

“He wants you to cut the apron strings?”

“That’s not quite how he put it,” Phil said, “but pretty much.”

“He needs his best agent off of baby-sitting duty.”

Phil scoffed. “It’s hardly baby-sitting duty. We make a good team.”

“Maybe the test was for me, then,” Clint said. “Making sure I could play well with others should the need arise.”

“You’re the best asset SHIELD has,” Phil said, leaping immediately to Clint’s defense.

“Not if I’m a one-handler asset.”

“Nobody else better be handling your assets,” Phil said.

“You’re handling me now, and that’s all that matters.”

“Are we still talking about missions?” Phil said.

Clint’s answer was to lean in for another kiss. Phil stopped him. “Paperwork, Clint.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Clint said.

“The sooner . . . ,” Phil began.

Clint leaned back and gestured towards his groin. “You expect me to be able to concentrate on paperwork like this?”

Phil glanced down, then raised eyes gone dark to Clint’s face. “It would be a reward for a job well done,” Phil said, his voice not betraying the level of arousal Clint could see in his face.

Clint unhooked one arm from around Phil’s neck. He set his hand on Phil’s shoulder and slowly dragged it down his chest. “But, sir, I know how much you hate a shoddy, rushed report. I think we’d both be able to concentrate better if we . . .” Clint slid his hand over Phil’s stomach, the belt buckle scraping against his palm as he reached lower, wrapped his fingers around the hardness beneath the material of Phil’s slacks. “. . . took care of this first.”

Phil bit back a moan. “You make a sound argument.”

“I learned from the best,” Clint said. This time Phil didn’t stop him when he leaned in for another kiss. He unbuckled Phil’s belt and undid the front of his slacks while his tongue plundered Phil’s mouth.

Phil groaned into Clint’s mouth when Clint reached into his boxer briefs and wrapped his fingers around Phil’s hard length. “You’re not making me come in my pants, Barton.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Clint said. “How important are the files on your desk?”

“Very,” Phil said, managing to sound peeved in spite of Clint’s hand on him.

“Guess you’ll just have to bend me over the couch, then,” Clint said. He stood, withdrawing his hand from Phil’s pants, the tips of his fingers brushing the head as if reluctant to release him completely. Clint reached into his pocket and tossed the tube of lube and condom he’d brought with him onto the desk. Phil raised an eyebrow. “Just in case you weren’t prepared.”

“I’m always prepared, Barton.”

“Really?” Clint said as his fingers made short work of the button and zip at the front of his uniform pants. “Because I remember a time in Geneva . . .”

“That was an anomaly,” Phil said.

Clint pushed his pants down over his hips to reveal the fact that he’d gone commando after his shower. Phil’s gaze lingered on Clint’s cock and he swallowed hard.

“Actually,” Phil said.

Clint immediately caught Phil’s meaning. “Wait, really?” It wasn’t as if they never switched it up, but Phil’s inability to just come out and tell Clint what he wanted meant he was feeling particularly vulnerable. Clint spread his arms and indicated his groin. “You want to take this for a ride?”

Phil rolled his eyes, but lost the raw look. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Don’t front,” Clint said, twisting his hips. “You want this.”

Phil broke into a smile. “I honestly can’t imagine why.”

“Let me remind you,” Clint said.

Phil let Clint pull him out of the chair. They kissed while Clint dragged the tails of Phil’s shirt out of his slacks, then pushed the slacks down over his hips. They both turned to study the couch.

“I’m not sure I thought this through,” Phil said. “My back’s not going to thank me.”

“Desk still off limits?” Phil gave Clint a look and Clint raised his hands. “Just asking.” Clint’s brain whirled for another solution. “You could do me now and I’ll do you when we get home.”

“Do you?” Phil said. “The romance really is dead.” He leaned over the couch, giving Clint a glimpse of his ass when his shirt rode up, and pulled the blanket off the back. “Do you mind?”

Phil had brought the blanket in for Clint after he’d fallen asleep on the couch more than once. “No, I do not!” Clint said. “Hell, I’ve bled on it, it can take one more for the team.”

Phil snorted, but he spread the blanket across the cushions. “We’ll need to remove more clothes to do it this way,” he said, but Clint had already figured that out. He had his t-shirt off and was untying his boots when Phil turned around.

They didn’t use Phil’s office for this type of activity often, and when they did it was usually a ‘wham bam, thank you, ma’am’ rush of adrenaline and ‘you almost died’ that only required them to shove their pants down to free the important bits.

“In a hurry, Barton?” Phil said dryly, even as he reached for his tie. Technically, Phil didn’t need to remove his shirt, but it wouldn’t do to get it wrinkled or risk getting it stained.

“The sooner we get started,” Clint said.

“Touche,” Phil said, his voice going a little strangled as Clint shimmied his pants down his legs.

Clint stepped out of his pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and moved over to help Phil. He unbuttoned the shirt from the bottom while Phil unknotted the tie and unbuttoned from the top. When their fingers met Clint pushed the sides of the shirt back and leaned in to kiss Phil again.

Clint helped Phil out of the shirt and carefully hung it over the back of the nearest chair. Phil sat on the couch and Clint knelt to help him out of his shoes.

“I can do that myself, Barton.”

Clint set the shoes to the side and slid his hands up Phil’s calves. “But why do it yourself when I can do it for you? Sir.”

Phil’s breath stuttered at whatever he saw on Clint’s face, heard in his voice. A soft moan issued from his throat when Clint lowered his head and swirled his tongue around the exposed head of Phil’s cock.

Phil obediently raised his hips so Clint could pull his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs. Clint folded the slacks and draped them over the arm of the chair. When Clint turned back to Phil, he was watching Clint through eyes gone darker yet.

“What turns you on more,” Clint said. “This.” He gestured towards all of his magnificent nakedness. “Or the fact that I folded your slacks.”

Phil’s cheeks pinked. “Does it have to be one or the other?”

Clint chuckled. Phil was so easy once you got to know his weaknesses. “Next time I come over on laundry day we’ll test that theory.”

“You’re not getting anywhere near my laundry, Barton,” Phil said, but there wasn’t any heat in it.

One time you wash a pair of red boxer briefs with the whites and no one lets you forget about it. “You say that now, sir,” Clint said, “but wait until you see how I fold a pair of socks.”

“I’m sure it’s quite a turn on,” Phil said, “but if you want to take advantage of this moment there’ll be less talking and more action.”

“Don’t lie, sir,” Clint said, reaching behind him for the lube and condom. “You love it when I talk. Especially when I tell you how gorgeous you look both in and out of your suits.”

“I don’t need flattery, Barton,” Phil said. But he leaned forward and kissed Clint before laying back on the blanket.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Clint said. He squeezed lube onto his finger and Phil pulled his legs back so Clint had easier access to his hole.

Clint watched Phil’s face as he circled Phil’s hole and pressed against the ring of muscle before pushing inside. “Like when I tell you how tight you are,” Clint said as he moved his finger in and out of Phil before adding a second. “How good you look taking my fingers. How amazing you’re going to feel around my cock.”

Phil had been biting back any vocal response to Clint’s words, but he broke on that last. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is,” Phil said archly, trying to cover the soft moan he’d allowed to escape.

“You calling this my money maker, sir?”

“That’s not what I said, but if you don’t get this show on the road I’m going to have to do it myself.”

“Pushy,” Clint said fondly. “As much as I love to watch you finger yourself, I’m going to decline your kind offer.”

Clint lowered his head and sucked on the head of Phil’s cock while he brushed his fingers over the sensitive nub inside him. Tremors were still zinging through Phil’s muscles when Clint withdrew his fingers. He wiped them on his own cock and tore open the foil packet. Clint rolled on the condom and slicked it up. He squeezed another dollop onto his fingers and used the excuse of adding more lube to Phil’s hole to get his fingers back inside him.

Phil bore down on Clint’s fingers and threw his head back. Clint found the nub again and rubbed it until Phil’s thighs trembled from the electric shocks running through him. Clint withdrew his fingers and stood so he could kneel between Phil’s legs. He guided the tip of his cock to Phil’s hole and pressed forward until the head popped inside him.

Clint pushed Phil’s legs back and braced himself to slide the rest of the way into him. Clint pulled out and pushed back in, losing himself in the feel of Phil’s body tight around him. The hot coil of arousal low in his belly brought Clint back to himself. He placed one foot on the floor and used it for leverage to thrust into Phil. Clint moved faster, hips slamming harder against Phil’s ass as he drove himself deeper. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way Phil looked right now – eyes dark with desire, hand moving on his cock – so he didn’t come too soon.

Phil made noises, little moans that escaped his throat, then grunts and half-formed words that sounded like Clint’s name. Phil’s hand moved desperately faster on himself and Clint could tell the moment before Phil came. His hand froze, and his back arched, and his ass clamped down on Clint.

Clint groaned because Phil was already so tight around him that this was almost too much. As soon as Phil’s body relaxed Clint resumed his thrusts. It wasn’t long before the sight of Phil blissed out and covered in his own come sent Clint over the edge.

Clint’s muscles turned to Jell-O and he sagged onto Phil. He brushed his lips across Phil’s, leaning most of his weight against the back of the couch so he didn’t squish him. Once he could move, Clint straightened and gently withdrew from Phil, making sure the condom didn’t slip off.

His legs were still a little shaky when he retrieved the wipes from the bottom drawer of Phil’s desk. He cleaned himself up, and then Phil. Phil complained that he could do it himself, but he didn’t otherwise try to stop Clint.

Clint gave Phil a hand to his feet. They dressed, sharing kisses and light touches because neither of them wanted the moment they’d just shared to end just yet. Clint picked Phil’s jacket up off the back of the chair and held it for him. Phil gave Clint one last kiss before slipping his arms into the suit jacket and becoming Agent Coulson instead of Phil.

They went over Clint’s field report and made plans to meet back here after the debrief. On the way to the conference room Clint detoured to R&D. “Hey, Fitz,” Clint said when he found him at his work station.

“Agent Barton!” Fitz said. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to put in a requisition for more arrows and I wondered if you had anything special for me.”

Clint listened while Fitz told him about the various types of prototype arrows he was working on and told Fitz to let him know when they were ready for testing. Before he left, Clint slipped the wipes and other evidence of his tryst with Phil into Fitz’s trash, which would be dumped directly into the incinerator.

Phil, as a senior agent, attended the mission debrief even though he hadn’t been responsible for it, but he only spoke to Clint when he had a question about the op. Clint headed to his locker when the meeting broke up, and Phil to his office. Minutes later Clint met Phil there. His computer was already shut down and the files that had been on his desk earlier locked away.

Clint indicated the duffel bag hanging off his shoulder. “What did you need this for?”

Phil picked up the blanket he’d folded neatly. “We should probably wash this,” he said dryly.

Clint opened the duffel and Phil stuffed the blanket inside. Clint had been in situations where he’d have been tortured for information and killed if he’d been caught, but sneaking out of SHIELD with their ‘sex blanket’ still gave him a little thrill.

“Please stop calling it our ‘sex blanket’,” Phil said.

Clint ignored Phil and said, “Have you ever seen me fold a blanket, sir?”

“Actually, I have, Barton,” Phil said. “You could use some practice.”

Clint’s voice went low. “I’m all for practice. Sir.”

Clint smiled to himself when Phil shivered. Yep, you just had to know Phil’s weaknesses. And as much as he loved a well-pressed shirt or nicely hung pair of trousers, Phil’s greatest weakness was Clint himself.

The End


End file.
